


I can take a body blow

by theonlytwin



Series: one heart between us [4]
Category: Professional Wrestling, 新日本プロレス | New Japan Pro-Wrestling
Genre: M/M, Mild Kink, So Tender So Mild, mild bondage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-06-10 09:45:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15288834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theonlytwin/pseuds/theonlytwin
Summary: Kota in a three piece suit, scrolling through his phone, looks like a Kota from a totally different world - an alternate universe where he went into his family business and Kenny’s - a hockey player, or a zamboni driver. Maybe this is what they should be, instead of their terribly unlikely reality.





	I can take a body blow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ix_tab](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ix_tab/gifts).



> after the G128 press conference. kenny has anxiety, news at eleven. inspired by ix_tab's belt story.

Kota has to talk about trading cards while Kenny gets in a workout, because their jobs are the best.

(In a month they have to fight in front of thousands of people who want to see them destroy each other, because their jobs are the worst.)

When Kenny gets out of the shower, there’s a text from Ibushi demanding lunch - so he ends up wet haired and wearing track pants in the back of a taxi with a Kota who carefully ironed his weird fancy cuffs for the press conference.

“How’d it go?”

“I messed up some trivia and everyone laughed.”

“Ah, well,” Kenny knocks his knee against Kota’s - worn polyester and tailored cotton. “Aren’t you hot, Bu-san?”

“Mmm?” Kota looks out the window. “It’s not that humid.”

It’s not that he feels underdressed - which he doesn’t ever, really, spending as much time as he does half-naked really cured him of that - but he feels that they’re badly matched. That Kota in a three piece suit, scrolling through his phone, looks like a Kota from a totally different world - an alternate universe where he went into his family business and Kenny’s - a hockey player, or a zamboni driver. Maybe this is what they should be, instead of their terribly unlikely reality. 

Kota glances up, sees that he’s being watched. 

He holds his phone out to Kenny, wordlessly - it’s showing a slow motion gif of a puppy rolling down some stairs.

When Kenny looks up, Kota is grinning his wonky, joyous grin. Kenny grins back. 

***

“You want to go train?” Kenny asks, after they’ve eaten.

“I didn’t bring any clothes - I need to go home and change.” He folds his jacket over his arm, presses his elbow to Kenny’s. “Tell me, why do you hate this outfit?”

“What? I don’t hate your outfit. You look great. Very fancy.” He does look great - he always looks great, it’s been very frustrating for years how great he looks. 

“You looked relieved when I said I was going to change, though.”

“I’m looking forward to training - last time without bruises for the month!”

“Ah,” Kota nods, but doubtfully.

In the back of the next taxi, Kenny watches out the window as the cars and offices and shops slide by - all these normal lives, people doing regular jobs with regular commutes and having lunch breaks with co-workers and unscrutinised relationships with partners who have never fallen on them from great heights.

When he looks over, Kota’s staring at him.

“What?”

Kota glances down, bites his lip, shakes his head. The imaginary high-powered businessman is gone - it’s just his beloved, fiddling with waistcoat buttons.

“I’ll tell you later.”

So they can both keep secrets. That’s fine.

***

Kenny sits on the couch as soon as they get home. 

He’s probably got time for a round of SFV, he figures, reaching for the controller. Kota comes in between him and the screen before he turns anything on. His waistcoat is unbuttoned, tie flapping.

“Can you help me with my cufflinks?” 

“Yeah,” Kenny says, taking the outstretched hand in his. He had needed help getting them on in the morning - had brushed a thumb across Kenny’s mouth when he was done. 

Now Kenny draws his fingers across the inside of Kota’s wrist, drops a kiss on the web of skin between his thumb and palm, slides the little metal doohickey out of Kota’s sleeve. 

“We should get you a shirt like this. That takes cufflinks.”

“OK?” Kenny catches his other hand, unfixes the other sleeve. “If you like.”

“We could match,” Kota says.

Kenny looks up at him, cufflinks warm in his hand. “We could.”

“I know you hate ties. And waistcoats. And top buttons.”

“I don’t hate them. I just look like a weird substitute teacher when I wear them.”

Kota puts his thumb against Kenny’s lips again, and Kenny opens his mouth a little. 

“No.” He loosens his tie, still standing over Kenny, who feels very dizzy. “Can I put this on you?” He wraps his fingers around Kenny's wrist. "Here?"

Kenny nods, unable to vocalise. He’s short of breath and full of blood. This is what Kota had been thinking about in the taxi. This is what he had thought about this morning.

“Take off your shirt,” Kota says, taking his hand away from Kenny’s face to untie the knot. “Tell me if this is too tight.”

Kenny fumbles with the cufflinks, his shirt, drops them on the ground. He looks hungrily at Kota, who perches on the side of the coffee table with his sleeves loose and top button undone.

He gathers Kenny’s hands together, winds the tie in a figure eight around his wrists, makes a double knot.

“OK?” Kota asks, voice low and rough.

He flexes his arms, pulls them apart. It’s not tight, but he can’t slip his wrists out. He knows that if he asks, Kota would cut the tie to shreds, but it still feels urgent.

He nods again.

“See?” Kota smiles. “You look good.”

Kenny makes a noise, high in his throat.

“I want you,” Kota says, unbuttoning the rest of his shirt, slowly, “to be mine. I want everyone to know that you’re mine, and I’m yours.” Kenny closes his eyes, sways forward. Kota catches him by the forearms, clasps their hands together. 

“I am,” he says, incoherent. “You are. Mine.”

“Yes.” Kota kisses him, lightly, on the mouth. Kenny leans in, but Kota’s moved, and he ends up with his forehead pressed to Kota’s collarbone, his tied hands grabbing at Kota’s belt. 

Kota strokes his back with one hand, holds his shoulder with the other. Kenny mouths at Kota’s chest, trying to get closer but unbalanced by his arms.

“I want you inside me. And I want to be inside you.” 

Kenny nods, staggers forwards onto his knees, so he’s in between Kota’s legs, tugging at his belt to open it.

“We’re going to bed, Kenny-tan.”

“Oh,” he says, taken out of the moment, feeling a little foolish.

“Is this OK?” Kota asks, still on the coffee table, visibly concerned.

“Yeah,” Kenny says roughly. “Yeah, just - it hit me fast.”

“Too fast?” His hands fly to Kenny’s tied wrists.

“No. I’m good. It’s good.” He touches his fingers - awkwardly bunched together as they are - to the underside of Kota’s chin, kisses him gently. “We're good. You’re going to need to help me up, though.”

Kota surges up, bringing Kenny up by the elbows. 

“You do look very good,” Kota says, again.

“So do you,” Kenny says, and rests his head on Kota’s shoulder, looks down his golden chest and stomach to his half-unbuckled belt and tented trousers. It’s a good sight.

“Come on,” Kota takes his hands, leads them into the bedroom, positions Kenny on the edge of the bed.

He steps out of his pants and boxers without ceremony, kneels between Kenny’s legs and carefully undoes his drawstring, coaxes Kenny’s clothes off patiently, pressing kisses to his belly and thighs, ducking around his dick, teasing.

Kenny flops backwards onto the bed, exhausted by his own emotions. Kota climbs up the bed, stretches out beside and above him.

“Can you move up?”

He shuffles along, using his shoulders and feet, and when he levels out with Kota, rolls onto his side. Kota puts a hand on his waist, cupping his hip. Kenny curves towards him like a flower to the sun. They kiss with his arms trapped between them, making him feel hot and crazy. 

He pants against Kota's neck, says, "Please."

Kota shoves him onto his back, crawls over him, so that he’s straddling Kenny’s head and kissing Kenny’s thighs. 

Kenny opens his mouth, arcs his head up, finds the sweet heat of his dick as Kota presses his tongue to Kenny's - finally.

He can’t see, can’t move his hands - he can only taste and hear and feel, and it’s more than enough - it’s too much, which is all Kota has ever been - their mouths moving in tandem, Kota’s fingers bruising his hips, the noise of them so loud, blood roaring in his ears, in his whole body. They gasp and roll and choke - Kota hums and Kenny whines - they thrum with how close they both are.

Kota shakes, thrusts, fills his mouth - Kenny swallows, the taste of it maddening. He pushes up - Kota holds his ass up, cups his balls - he comes, and he would shout if he could.

Kenny twitches as Kota rolls to the side, wraps a hand around his calf, presses his face to his knee. 

“I love your legs.” He sucks a kiss to the skin of his thigh - it might leave a little hickey, but it’s nothing compared to some Kenny’s had in the past months.

“I love you,” Kenny tells him, quietly.

Kota sits up, starts to unpick the knot between his wrists. 

“Was this good?” he asks, as the fabric starts to slide apart.

“Yeah,” Kenny rolls his wrists, forms a fist with each hand. “Maybe - above my head, next time?”

Kota grins, and lays down beside him. “I love you.”

Kenny closes his eyes, overwhelmed.

“You know that I love you,” Kota says. Kenny nods. “You doubt it?” Kenny shakes his head. “You doubt yourself.” Kenny opens his eyes, sees Kota looking deadly serious, sad. “Don’t do that,” he says, and throws an arm across his chest, pushes their foreheads together. “Don’t doubt the only thing I’ve been certain of in my life.”

He doesn’t know if he can trust the judgement of someone who swallows fireworks and courts dehydration when left unsupervised, but Kota can make him believe almost anything. 

"OK," he says, holding on to Kota's arm with both hands.

**Author's Note:**

> love is real and so is wrestling.
> 
> title from everything everything's don't try.
> 
> download a zip full of love songs for wrestlers here: https://drive.google.com/open?id=1_gorTrX2rD8zebTkTkRo4PeTuEWTdMbf


End file.
